Wales

I was moreover much interested to discover at Llanegryn a scrap of kelpie
story, which runs as follows, concerning Llyn Gwernen, situated close to
the old road between Dolgelley and Llanegryn:

As a man from the village of Llanegryn was returning in the dusk of the
evening across the mountain from Dolgettey, he heard, when hard by Llyn
Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:

Daeth yr awr ond ni ðaelh y dyn!

The hour is come but the man is not!

As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him
but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he
saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him
to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is
some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a
mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the
former's way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed
irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end
of the story in its original form.

Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Llyn Cynnwch, which
has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informant is Miss Lucy
Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgettey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh
folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information
from a Dolgettey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect
that on Gwyl Galan, '"the eve of New Year's Day," a person is seen walking
backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:

Mae'r awr wedi dyfod a'r ifyn heb ðyfod!

The hour is come while the man is not!

The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the
eve of New Year's Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake
stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once
a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or
design.

By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that
certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many
victims. For some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M.
Mackinlay, on "Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore," a paper
published in the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of
Scotland, 1895-96, pp. 69-76. Take for example the following rhyme:

Blood-thirsty Dee
Each year needs three;
But bonny Don
She needs none.

Wales

Llyn Gwernen is by the side of the old road leading from Dolgellau to
Llanegryn, at the foot of Cader Idris. A number of the farmers of
Llanegryn were once hurrying home from a fair at Dolgellau (they were
hungry, because the men who sold food at Dolgellau fairs in the olden time
used to serve it up so hot that no one could touch it. The farmers were so
busy that they could not wait for the dishes to cool, and so it was very
little they had for their money). They saw a great man, with green water
weeds entwined in his hair, and naked save for a girdle of green weeds,
walking round the lake and crying in a querulous tone, "The hour is come
but the man is not, the hour is come but the man is not," over and over
again.

The farmers were frightened and ran home. Others also who returned home
later than they saw and heard him, and it was afterwards found out that
the great man with the green water weeds kept on complaining, "The hour is
come but the man is not," from ten o'clock at night until five o'clock in
the morning.

Some days after the body of an Englishman was found floating, swollen and
horrible, on the surface of the lake. He had caused a great stir in the
regions round about Cader Idris by sitting all night in the chair in which
the astronomer Idris used in early days to watch the stars. (Idris was of
more than ordinary stature. One day in walking he felt something in his
shoe hurting him; he pulled it off and shook out three stones, which are
still to be seen by the Lake of the Three Pebbles, Llyn y Tri Graienyn.
One of them is twenty-four feet long, eighteen feet broad, and twelve feet
high.) His object was to test the truth of the saying that anyone who
spent a night in the chair would by morning be either mad, or a poet, or a
corpse. So far from being a poet by the next day, he was not even a bard,
and he certainly was not dead then. It was therefore concluded that his
intellect was deranged thereby, and he had in this state fallen into the
clutches of the man with the green weeds, who had dragged him into the
depths of the lake. The objection to that idea was that he must have been
mad beforehand, because his chief delight was to climb to the summits of
mountains. The folk who dwell at the feet of such mountains as Cader Idris
and Snowdon make it a boast that they are much too sensible to attempt
anything so silly.

Scotland

The Conan is as bonny a river as we hae in a' the north country. There 's
mony a sweet sunny spot on its banks, an' mony a time an' aft hae I waded
through its shallows, whan a boy, to set my little scautling-line for the
trouts an' the eels, or to gather the big pearl-mussels that lie sae thick
in the fords. But its bonny wooded banks are places for enjoying the day
in -- no for passing the nicht. I kenna how it is; it 's nane o' your wild
streams that wander desolate through a desert country, like the Aven, or
that come rushing down in foam and thunder, ower broken rocks, like the
Foyers, or that wallow in darkness, deep, deep in the bowels o' the earth,
like the fearfu' Auldgraunt; an' yet no ane o' these rivers has mair or
frightfuller stories connected wi' it than the Conan. Ane can hardly
saunter ower half-a-mile in its course, frae where it leaves Coutin till
where it enters the sea, without passing ower the scene o' some frightful
auld legend o' the kelpie or the waterwraith.

And ane o' the most frightful looking o' these places is to be found among
the woods of Conan House. Ye enter a swampy meadow that waves wi' flags
an' rushes like a corn-field in harvest, an' see a hillock covered wi'
willows rising like an island in the midst. There are thick mirk-woods on
ilka side; the river, dark an' awesome, an' whirling round an' round in
mossy eddies, sweeps away behind it; an' there is an auld burying-ground,
wi' the broken ruins o' an auld Papist kirk, on the tap. Ane can see amang
the rougher stanes the rose-wrought mullions of an arched window, an' the
trough that ance held the holy water. About twa hunder years ago -- a wee
mair maybe, or a wee less, for ane canna be very sure o' the date o' thae
old stories -- the building was entire; an' a spot near it, whar the wood
now grows thickest, was laid out in a corn-field. The marks o' the furrows
may still be seen amang the trees.

A party o' Highlanders were busily engaged, ae day in harvest, in cutting
down the corn o' that field; an' just aboot noon, when the sun shone
brightest an' they were busiest in the work, they heard a voice frae the
river exclaim, "The hour but not the man has come."

Sure enough, on looking round, there was the kelpie stan'in' in what they
ca' a fause ford, just foment the auld kirk. There is a deep black pool
baith aboon an' below, but i' the ford there 's a bonny ripple, that
shows, as ane might think, but little depth o' water; an' just i' the
middle o' that, in a place where a horse might swim, stood the kelpie. An'
it again repeated its words, "The hour but not the man has come," an' then
flashing through the water like a drake, it disappeared in the lower pool.

When the folk stood wondering what the creature might mean, they saw a man
on horseback come spurring down the hill in hot haste, making straight for
the fause ford. They could then understand her words at ance; an' four o'
the stoutest o' them sprang oot frae amang the corn to warn him o' his
danger, an' keep him back. An' sae they tauld him what they had seen an'
heard, an' urged him either to turn back an' tak' anither road, or stay
for an hour or sae where he was. But he just wadna hear them, for he was
baith unbelieving an' in haste, an' wauld hae taen the ford for a' they
could say, hadna the Highlanders, determined on saving him whether he
would or no, gathered round him an' pulled him frae his horse, an' then,
to mak' sure o' him, locked him up in the auld kirk.

Weel, when the hour had gone by -- the fatal hour o' the kelpie -- they
flung open the door, an' cried to him that he might noo gang on his
journey. Ah ! but there was nae answer, though; an' sae they cried a
second time, an' there was nae answer still; an' then they went in, an'
found him lying stiff an' cauld on the floor, wi' his face buried in the
water o' the very stone trough that we may still see amang the ruins. His
hour had come, an' he had fallen in a fit, as 'twould seem, head-foremost
amang the water o' the trough, where he had been smothered, -- an' sae ye
see, the prophecy o' the kelpie availed naething.

Denmark

It was the Nök, or another water-troll, who late one evening shouted from the lake beside Hvide-sö Parsonage, "The time is come, but not the man."

As soon as the priest heard of this, he gave orders to watch the first man who came with intent to cross the lake, and stop him from going further. Immediately after this, there came a man in hot haste, and asked for a boat. The priest begged him to put off his journey, but as neither entreaties nor threats had any effect, the priest made them use force to prevent his crossing. The stranger became quite helpless, and remained lying so, until the priest had some water brought from the lake from which the cry came, and gave him it to drink. Scarcely had he drunk the water, when he gave up the ghost.

In southern Vend-syssel in Denmark the river-man is also known as the Nök. The river Ry there takes one person every year, and when it demands them, it calls, "The time and the hour are come, but the man is not yet come."

When this cry is heard from the river, folk must beware of going too near it, for if they do so, they are seized by an irresistible desire to spring into it, and then they never come up again.

There are many who are said to have heard the cry, among others a girl who was going along its bank with a dog by her side. When she heard the call, she cried out, "Not me, but the dog," which immediately sprang into the stream and was drowned. She also saw a little man with a large beard running about in the river; this was the Nök, from whom the cry no doubt came.

In Odense river there is also a river-man, who requires his victim every year, and if one year passes without any one being drowned there, he takes good care to have two in the year following.

It is said that two little boys were once playing on the bank, when one of them fell into the water. The other tried to help him out, but just as he got hold of his comrade's hand, a voice was heard out of the river, "No, I shall have both of you; I got no one last year," and with that this boy also slipped into the water and both were drowned.

Some men, who were witnesses of the accident from the opposite bank, hurried with a boat to lend their aid, but came too late. The bodies were never found either; the river-man had kept them.

Germany

In the vicinity of Schöneiche not far from Rüdersdorf a group of
people were making merry on the bank of a small pond when suddenly they
heard someone clapping his hands and a voice calling from the water, "The
hour is here, and the person is not here yet!" This was repeated several
times.

A short time later an apprentice came along the path, then hurried to the
bank of the pond to quench his thirst. One of the merrymakers went to him
and held him away from the water, telling him what they had heard. Thus
the apprentice changed his mind and went with the merrymakers to a tavern
in Schöneiche, where he ordered a glass of beer. He had scarcely
brought it to his lips when he collapsed on the floor and died.

Germany

In the vicinity of Rothenburg some people were in a field busy with the
harvest when they heard a voice calling loudly and clearly from a nearby
pond, "The hour is here, but the man is not yet here." That same moment
they saw a rider galloping toward them. Although they waved and shouted
that he should keep his distance, he directed his horse toward the pond,
jumping directly into the water. His horse soon emerged, but the rider had
disappeared and was never seen again.

Germany

The Leine demands ten sacrifices every year (de Leine fret alle
jâr teine), and if these do not drown then they die in some
other manner. Thus one hot summer a servant girl was bringing their meal
to some household servants who were working in a field near Hollenstedt.
She was very thirsty and asked if they had something to drink in their
jug. They had drunk everything and told her to go the Leine, which was
here very shallow, and get a drink from the river. The girl went to the
bank and drank, but she never stood up again, for she was dead.

A boy insisted on approaching the water, but he was not allowed to do
so. They held him back from the water, but he died soon thereafter anyway.

There are three bridges on the Pfingst Meadow near Hollenstedt. Once a
cavalryman en route to Stöckheim was riding across the meadow. Near
the middle bridge he heard a voice cry out loudly, "If he is not here yet,
then he is not coming," and in the same instant a boy came running toward
him. Thinking that the child might drown (if he were pulled into the
water) he quickly dropped his leather glove and asked the boy to pick it
up and hand it to him. As the boy was reaching the glove toward him, he
grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up onto the horse. However, the boy
died immediately while seated before him on the horse.

Austria/Italy

A teamster driving along Brenner Lake heard a voice calling out from the
water, "Time is up, and the person is not here yet." He paid little heed
to the voice and drove his horses onward. Then he met a fisherman who was
walking down to the lake to fish. The teamster warned him and told him
what he had heard. Following the teamster's advice, the fisherman changed
his plans and accompanied the teamster to the Brenner tavern. However, the
fisherman had scarcely taken the first bite of bread into his mouth when
he collapsed dead onto the floor.